


Slippery when wet

by rromantic



Series: Purr-fect love universe [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Beam the cat, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rromantic/pseuds/rromantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie night at the loft is off to an icy start when Justin ignores Brian’s dinner rules, but things heat up quickly when Beam the cat intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery when wet

_Beam's PoV_

It isn’t my fault. 

Tigerlily, my lovely companion for the night, proved to be much more interesting than was promised at first glance, and gentle-cat that I am, I went out of my way to show her how much more interesting. Subsequently, I find myself very far from My Coat when the downpour of this and the other side of the twenty-first century decides I need a bath. Getting home takes much longer than usual, since the elements are out to drown me, and my beautiful fur is plastered to my body when I finally reach our building.

I am not above wanting sympathy, and since I’m soaked already, I might as well collect half the storm in my coat to ensure my two housesitters fully appreciate how wet and miserable I am. It’s Thursday night, so they are probably on the couch for “movie-watching” evening, aka “let’s start fucking in the living room, with a detour on the kitchen counter.” They might also stop by the shower on their way to bed, depending on how difficult a day Brian had at the office and how much stress relief he needs.

There is also “cooking” night, which obviously starts in the kitchen, usually with Justin pushed up against the fridge. On “I’m busy” evenings, Brian staring at his laptop and drumming his fingers is the signal for Justin to get his ass onto his lap, pronto. Brian’s cock is the only part of him that ends up “busy” during such interruptions.

Their playgrounds don’t bother me, except for the movie-watching sessions, since My Coat is on the couch. Sometimes it takes more than ten minutes before both of them are out of breath and crawling to bed, and they expect me to wait during this time. I don’t mind curling in soft sheets on their behalf, but then they shouldn’t wake me once they’re done and the couch is free. They’ve come to see my point, and when they come to bed to _sleep_ , I always stay and just stretch out more to Justin’s side. It’s now months after Ian, and the guy with the bat who “helped” Justin get his prom memories back, and he and Brian sleep so entangled around each other, they could very easily fit into a crib. I love it. I love how in love they are. How the one can make the other giggle with the smallest thing he says or does.

The half-empty pizza box and the smell of cheese... _full-cream_ cheese... are the first things I notice when I stagger into the loft, and I immediately glance over to the living room. Full-cream anything, other than _body_ and _facial_ (with French names), is guaranteed trouble. 

Shit. Brian is sprawled on the couch, sulking, the aimless changing of TV channels leaving no doubt as to who the injured party is.

And on the right-hand side, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you exhibit B. Justin seems to be concentrating hard, head bowed over the desk.

Apparently, neither of them has heard me come in. I'm wet... a third of my usual me, with my gorgeousness glued flat against my body... and I don't like not being fussed over immediately. I don't like it at all, and I start yelling when I shiver and drops of water go flying off my back. Brian launches into the air, but Justin is quicker and reaches me first. Problem is, I'm in the middle of my story and not concentrating on them as I should. The last thing I’m prepared for is Justin rudely interrupting me, grabbing and squashing me to his chest like I’m a sponge, causing water to run in streams, soaking him. Good.

I don't care if it's Justin. I'm nobody's sponge. Halfway to the bathroom, I manage to wrestle out of his arms, and I flee up the stairs and under the bed covers. The noise in the loft increases.

“Fuck that! I don’t give a shit. Look at the floor. He is getting everything wet. I swear…”

Justin doesn’t answer, which is worrisome. It means he has a plan... one I’m sure is very different from my own.

“He had fucking better not even think about getting on the bed.”

Note to self: have a hand-to-paw with Brian later.

Still not a word from Justin, and apprehensively I scan the room. I’m just in time to see him storming into the bathroom and emerging moments later with a… fuck. He can’t seriously consider drying me off? Who gives a shit if it’s a 100% cotton, heated, loft-sized towel, smelling of Brian and Justin and my favorite of their shampoos? I will not be wrapped in it (note to self: have a hand-to-paw with Justin later). That’s for humans only, since they’re too lazy to dry themselves in the correct way. Although, in all fairness, Brian and Justin do try hard every so often, licking each other from head to toe.

The duvet falls to one side when I go into action, streaking up the side of the loft and making a u-turn under the drapes. Nothing common and ordinary for Brian, like fitted curtains. Those would be functional. Brian doesn’t do functional, only exceptional. I don’t mind. It gives me the perfect hiding place, since the drapes pool on the hardwood floor underneath the windows. I disappear, taking great care to make sure my tail disappears with the rest of me.

“Beam,” Justin says, in his let’s-un-queen-Brian-and/or-Beam voice.

“Fuck off,” I answer, and take a peek around the velvety material to determine whether his strategy has changed since we last played. This isn’t the first time I have tried to show them just exactly how wet I am, and one would think they understood by now that sympathy from a distance will do. No practical assistance required. I can get myself looking fucking gorgeous again on my own, thank you very much.

“Look, let me help, okay? I promise I won’t rub your ears, and I won’t touch your tail.”

Yes, sure, riiight. As if. I narrow my eyes at Justin’s cooing. It’s disturbing how easily my boy can lie without batting an eyelid. No remorse or shame whatsoever.

He lunges and I fly. Along the wall, through the far end of the living room, taking a turn through the corner with the desk and computers. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Justin's doing exactly what I want him to. On cue, he cuts through the living room, and I make a perfect intercept. Brian is still standing by the couch, hands on his hips, and I catch him across the shoulder with enough of my body weight and momentum to make him lose his balance. Just enough for… 

At the same time, Justin reaches for me again, but slams into Brian’s arms and sends both of them tumbling onto the couch behind them.

I skid to a stop, double back, and jump up on the coffee table for a better look. So adorable when my two humans are just a tangled mass of limbs. Justin’s struggling to get out of Brian’s embrace, and I smile broadly when Brian’s arms tighten, holding Justin against him. He pushes his fingers through the ruffled hair and I watch Justin sink back. As with me, there seems to be a connection between his elbows and knees and his hair. He folds like a cat in a sunspot every time Brian massages the back of his head, like I do every time either of them wiggle-pet me. It does make me feel better not to be the only one with such a weakness.

“Brian, he’s cold. Let me just quickly...“ 

Both Brian’s hands are now entangled in Justin’s hair, and he makes that noise I’ve taught him... a combination of a whimper and a sigh with a deep purr. He turned out to be an excellent student, and Justin doesn’t mind assisting with the practical assignments. 

Brian kisses him, their eyes closed, and with a jump off the table, I hurry to wait behind the couch. Any time now... 

A puddle of blue silk lands in front of me, and in spite of his earlier disrespect, I say "thank you" to Justin for giving me Brian's shirt. The loft’s hardwood floor was made using only trees that grow on hilltops and look down on the non-beautiful ones growing down in the valley, but still, it is nice to have something of Brian and Justin to lie on. Brian doesn't like his bed wet if Justin wasn't somehow very involved in soaking the sheets, and it is not a good idea to dry off on puffy pillows, but it doesn’t bother me. I like this shirt. It's blue like Justin's eyes, and soft like Brian's touch when Justin isn’t looking.

I shiver again. Shit. Next time, I'll get a weather report first before going out. It is going to take me hours to be gorgeously dry again, but at least I can do so without over-eager humans and towels. Brian will keep Justin busy for a while.

***

“You’re wet,” Brian remarks, and Justin laughs. “We should get you out of these clothes before you catch a cold.” He tugs on Justin’s T-shirt and pulls it over the blond head with no resistance from its owner.

Justin slumps forward, bracing himself with his hands on Brian’s shoulders. “So are you.” He unbuttons Brian’s shirt and pushes it aside to lick and suck the bit of skin just inside Brian’s waistband, all the way up to his chin. Moments later, he tosses the damp shirt over the back of the couch.

Brian spreads his legs to make room for Justin between them, and waits until he wriggles his way high enough to have his ass settle snuggly against Brian’s groin. Brian wraps his legs over Justin’s from behind, forcing him to open wide by hooking his feet on the inside of Justin’s knees. Slowly, knowing how much it turns Justin on, he tangles his fingers in Justin’s pubic hair and plays with the curls before sliding his hands down on either side of his stiff cock. Gently, he cups Justin’s balls with only the tips of his thumbs grazing the base of his shaft.

He can feel Justin’s jaw muscles bulge against the side of his face, the tension in his body as he stubbornly tries to play _hard_ to get. Brian smirks and teasingly scrapes his nails over the sensitive flesh of Justin’s inner legs.

“You… you still want to watch a movie?”

“Hmm.” _Okay. Let’s play._

“You do? What?”

“What do you mean, 'what'?”

“ _Uh_ … Brian. What. Movie. Do… _Fuuuck_ … youwanttowatch… _uuuuh, fuck!_ ”

“You really should learn to speak in full sentences... it makes it much easier to understand you.”

“Look who’s… what do you want to watch?”

“Pirates.”

“Pirates? _Pirates of the Caribbean_? You? 

“…”

“ _Uh… Bria-… uuuhhhh…_ Don’t try to change the subject. You know James Dean isn’t in it, right?”

“…”

 ***Low moaning*** “And you… _fuuuuuck_ … you know it’s not porn.”

“…”

“Wait, don’t _do_ …" ***giggling*** “Come on. Tell me. Why the sudden interest in-… _gmpfff_ …”

“…”

“Christ, Brian! At least give me time to turn… _Brian… oh yes…_ fuck, I love when you do that… _Jesus, do that again…_ ”

“Here. Put it on me.”

“…”

“Now lift up… _fuck… fuuuck, you’re tight…_ “ ***grunting*** “Why is my choice in movies – no, slow down - such a big deal?”

“Then stop… _holyshit…_ jerking me off. Several reasons. One, it’s a Disney movie-“

“I need to know what Gus is watching-”

“Two, eeeeewwhetsex-“

“There's no fucking, only roman-… kissing.”

“Oh my god, I do not believe I just heard… no, maybe I didn’t… wait – no, there’s no water in my ears… I did hear… you said romance... _Uuhhyesagain…_ without choking or dying or turning into a candle.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You did! I heard you!”

***struggling***

“I didn’t.”

 ***breathless*** “Maybe not the whole word, but you were going to say ‘romance.’”

“It isn’t romance, it’s just kissing, and we can fast forw-“

“Kissing equals romance?”

“Fuck this.”

***struggling***

“No, don’t go!”

***heavy breathing***

“Brian, come on…”

“Mmm…Do that again.”

“This?”

“ _Uuuhhh…_ ”

“I’m just surprised... Don’t! Keep still!... You never showed much interest in these kinds of movies.”

“What kind is that? _Ahuuhh…_ ones nominated for five Oscars?”

“I just meant… _christfuckme…_ it isn’t black and white, there’s no burly muscled men… _hardbrianyes…_ so why… _uhgod…_ You think he's hot?”

"Who?”

“ _Jesus… yesohshitiright… uh… there…_ Johnny Depp... _godyessfuck…_ Go on, admit it, you think he’s hot.”

“It's not just-... It’s not about Johnny Depp. How many gay pirate movies are there?”

“But Captain Jack isn't gay!”

“Of course he is. Always… ***grunting*** always hanging around… bars… _fuuuuckjustin…_ only men and common rooms.”

***teeth clashing***

“He wouldn’t… _aaahhshit…_ fuck them… _oohshit…_ Not… nohotguysthosebars… _mmmsogood…_ ”

“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t ***moaning*** have to see their faces, just their asses.”

“So I assume he hand-picked his crew and lined them up and fucked their brains out from starboard to portside when the winds died down and no one had much to do? All of them old and ugly and… _saggingooommff…_ ”

***muffled sounds***

"We going to watch or not?"

 ***heavy breathing*** " _Ooooh… fuck, yes… uhh…_ Do that again… "

"..."

“I still can't believe a Disney movie turns you on. I'll never be able to watch it again with Gus and not blush. Just thinking how hard his father was while watching Johnny Depp as a fucking hot pirate-"

“Whatever the fuck. Feel that? ***loud grunt*** My cock… _uuuhh…_ up your ass?”

“ _Fuckyesfuckme… hardBrian…_ ”

“Like… like this? Fuck your hole?”

“Aye-aye, capt’n!”


End file.
